Grackles are large black birds with an iridescent blue black head. According to my handy field guide bird book, they make a complete migration to the southern states. They arrive back here in large flocks, spread out over several days and the first wave of these feathered creatures washed into our area yesterday. By the end of the week there will be hundreds, if not thousands, of them perched in the treetops.
Grackles make enough noise to wake the dead. They spend the first week or two gathering in the trees to talk about their recent trip, or argue about who got here first, and they all talk at the same time. The chatter they make sounds like a circus calliope that is not only out of tune, but has also been out on an all night drunk. It's not a pleasant sound and it makes it nearly impossible to hear yourself think.
There is a large hedge of evergreen bushes that marks the border between our yard and the one next door. These bushes get really tall and have always been a favorite landmark for the grackles. One year I decided to thin out the grackle population, since they were literally driving me crazy, and bought a BB gun. I set myself up in a lawn chair, took aim and began to fire away. I didn't hit a single bird and since a BB gun doesn't make a whole lot of noise, I wasn't scaring them much either.
My youngest daughter, The Natural, joined me and asked if she could take a shot. I handed her the gun and Ms. Annie Oakley took aim, fired and dropped a grackle with the first shot. She smiled at me, handed me the gun and went back into the house.
This reminded me of the time I had a boat. I had absolutely no business with a boat, but at the time, I thought it to be a splendid idea. It was a 17 foot fish and ski and the first time The Natural and I took it out on the river, I couldn't get it back on the trailer. I must have made ten attempts and even though there were three old ladies sitting in lawn chairs on the bank, giving me advice with each attempt, I still couldn't do it.
The Natural says to me, "Mom, can I try it?"
By this time I was so exasperated I didn't care and said yes.
I gave her some helpful hints, hints that obviously were not working for me, and got out of the boat. What happened next has been forever seared into the video file portion of my brain. She backed the boat up slowly and got it straightened out. Then, being her father's child, she slammed the throttle into full speed ahead and roared downstream. She cranked the wheel to the left, made a huge circle the width of the river and started her approach, still in full throttle mode. Just as I thought she was going to launch completely out of the water, she killed the throttle and landed the boat perfectly on the trailer. First time behind the wheel, first attempt to load the boat. Sigh, a mini me, and I was loosing my touch.
I got rid of the boat. I did that shortly after I had taken Mother out one morning for a fishing excursion. She waited until we were on the other side of the river to ask me if the water, that was now up over the top of her shoes, was normal. I had forgot to put the plug back in the boat. No, I had no business with a boat.
The grackles will have a rude awakening tomorrow since we have another 3-4 inches of snow in the forecast, but they will begin to thin out over the next few weeks as they start to raise a new generation of noise makers. We trimmed the hedge and that messed up their flight pattern so there will not be as many taking refuge in it as there were before.
The next thing on the outdoor agenda will be the great Annual Toad Toss, but that is a blog for another day.
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